May it be said
that I died pushing a small child
to safety at the last second before I was crushed
by an oncoming vehicle. Despite the painfulness
of my injuries, my final words were: "Is she OK?"
Or, perhaps, in another scenario not as dramatic:
something like I died while speaking of world peace,
or, I was praying my children would lead useful lives.
Such are my hopes, but, in truth, it is rather unlikely.
An uncle of mine's last moment was the holding up
of a bottle of mosquito lotion, extolling its virtues,
and then dropping to the floor clutching his chest.
Not my idea of how to go, but there are worse ways.
For instance: berating, belittling or criticizing someone
for something which would be forgotten by day's end.
Or leaving with a lie on one's lips. For surely, in a life,
it is easier to be the fool, be foolish, say foolish things,
just by being ourselves in whatever moment we are in.
And though there is a lesson here somewhere, speaking
for myself, I doubt it will be heeded, even knowing one's
next breath might be the last breath. Our own lives go on,
seemingly forever, until death shows up, and when it does,
we are shocked to find that it doesn't much give a damn
about our last moments.
If you've any comments on this poem, J.D.Heskin would be pleased to hear from you.